A MYSTERIOUS TEACHER

Efforts to obey the law, from the days of yore
This He saw, as we sinned so much the more
A system of relief came to the fore
Presenting a salvation scheme to the core

Some call her a living personality
Others say she’s a system of spiritual partiality
To the extreme though, she may be a worldly liberality
And a licence to practise sheer carnality

Your wild attempts to prove your mettle
Has only yielded but a miserable little
Nevertheless, Grace loses not one battle
If only given a chance to meddle

In her strengths, you never stagger
That leaves much to be desired by the feelers
When she becomes a choice feeder
Grace is one mysterious teacher

Teaching us on the right way to go
For which we need lay the enemies low
Lest we unknowingly steal the show
Feigning Masters of Grace, Oh no!

Come to Grace, for she willingly teaches
Wherein thou shalt truly learn
Like a vine that supplies the branches
Tis a replenishing source, ye mortal men

Grace beckons; oh, she doth speak
For all who must learn must be meek
Must be mortally keen to seek
She comes running when all are weak

Carefully enshrined in the Living Word
Is an eternal hope of seeing the Lord
Beholding Him face to face
Is enshrouded in the person of Grace

THE INEVITABLE PILL

If only the Creator would grant me the power to heal
Then the cheerless gates of misery, I would gladly seal
That fearless devourer armed with daily zeal
I could see the “die-hard” cringe for real

Forth would I go to the Omnipresent, whom I can seek
The Almighty, before whom the mighty are meek
Leaves many all cranky and up the creek
I couldn’t dare steal a careless peek

Wouldest I seal tis deathly deal?
Stripping off all of its bodily feel
Concealing a myriad of woes in piecemeal
Leaving us in wonder if it’s for real

Oh, that man couldst dread the inevitable pill
Resolute on populating hell to the gills
Whilst inflicting hearty pains as with a drill
The saintly host on high celebrates, more still

A drove of spirited souls, thou didst swallow
And have them landed in cheerless gallows
All we like sheep, unsteady as the marshmallows
Rotting pallor, having potentials lying fallow

Still, our roles to play in the entire gist
A Christ less life has got some nasty twists
Thus our willingness to settle in the Creator’s fist
A safe haven for all who must forever exist